


Day Four: On A Date (AKA Chinese Food Counts as a Date)

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 30 Days of OTP: Bond/Q [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Bond and Q know what the score is, Breakfast, Chinese Food, Chinese food date counts, Going to work, M/M, Shower Sex, blowjob, handjob, naps, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shower sex, nap, then work. One of these things is not normal for either one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Four: On A Date (AKA Chinese Food Counts as a Date)

**Author's Note:**

> So I sort of failed at the whole prompt for today, because well...they aren't on a date for the whole thing, just the very last. But I'm making up my own rules apparently, damn it all :D

Bond opened his eyes and groaned. _God, my neck hurts._ He risked rolling his head to look towards the kitchen, ignoring the complaints his spine lodged with his brain, and watched a much more awake Q move about with breakfast. The smells coming from the small room were waking his stomach faster than his brain. “What’s cooking?”

“Not a full English, if that’s what you are expecting.” Q popped his head over the counter that served as the half-wall. “Eggs and bacon, is all.”

“Oh, count me in. I’m going to go take a shower.” Bond groaned again as he pushed himself to his feet, trying not to think about how Q was able to get up without waking him. He probably already had his shower, too. Damn.

The bathroom - he remembered where it was - was much warmer than the rest of the flat, and Bond smiled at the thought of Q, shivering naked on the tile after a wild night, waiting for the water in the shower to warm up, could hear him muttering ‘come on, hurry the fuck up...’ He quickly peeled out of yesterday’s suit and turned the shower on full blast, using the warm up time to carefully pull off the gauze covering a large abrasion on his left side. “Damn, should have done this in the shower,” he muttered as the mottled pad refused to let go. He finally just ripped the fucking thing away and hissed out a quick breath at the burn. Immediately, warm blood dripped down his sun-darkened skin and onto his thigh. “Damn it.” He looked up into the mirror and smoothed the pained glare of his eyes. “James, you are an idiot,” he told his reflection, and stepped into the shower stall, closing the glass door behind him. The steam quickly filled the alcove, and he breathed in deep, relishing the hot, humid air. After being in Bolivia for so long, coming back to the dry cold of England was a disappointment. But he always came back, didn’t he? And just as well, because it seemed he now had something to come back too, even if that something was just as bad off as he was -

The bathroom door opened, and Bond could barely make out Q’s thin frame as he crossed to the counter, setting down a plate. “You brought breakfast in here?”

“Why not? This is where I eat, half the time. How’s the road rash?”

Bond tipped back his head, letting the water sluice down his skin, pulling the tension with it. “Hurts. I took it off out there. Didn’t want to mess up the shower.”

“You still are, and it’s a shower, Bond. Water washes away all evidence, given enough time.” The figure outside of the frosted glass warped and shifted, and Bond realised Q was stripping.

“Q?”

“I haven’t taken a shower yet. Just woke up to make breakfast. I’ve only been awake a few minutes longer than you.” The door slid back, and Bond moved away from the hot spray to allow the hacker entrance. As soon as his head hit the water, that luxurious mop of hair fell along his neck and face with the weight, and Q hummed in sheer glee. “Oh fuck, that feels amazing.” He lifted his arms to reach for the shampoo, but Bond beat him to it.

“Let me.”

Q turned, brushing his hip against Bond’s stirring prick. “Alright.” He closed his eyes and Bond went to work, massaging Q’s scalp and hair, trying damned hard not to take a nip of that lovely neck... He tipped the hacker forward so he could wash the soap out, then murmured, “Conditioner?”

“Leave it. Bond, leave it and touch me.”

He looked down to find Q half hard and getting harder, and looked back up into those emerald eyes. “So, scalp massage?”

“I can't help that I have sensitive follicles.”

“Perfect.” Somehow, he’d missed that the first time they’d fucked. “I didn’t pull your hair enough last time, then.”

“Glad you didn’t.” Q hummed as Bond’s hands strayed down, one going to the curve of his arse, the other wrapping around his prick. “Oh, brilliant. That feels good, Bond.”

Bond leaned forward and tasted Q’s neck, right over the pulse point. “My name is James.”

“Ah...oh!” Q jerked as Bond nipped the skin, leaving a bright red spot that he immediately soothed with his wet tongue. “Ahhh...James, yes. James Bond. 007. Fuck!” His hips jerked forward once - twice - three times as Bond twisted his grip and rolled his wrist, jerking him against the agent’s thickly muscled thigh. His hands ghosted up Bond's sides, avoiding the abraision entirely. “Oh, Jesus, James.” He dropped his head to Bond’s shoulder and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the skin there, sucking a dark bruise into the cord of muscle leading to his neck as the bigger man rolled his hips forward into Q’s own and moaned deep in his chest.

Bond smirked at his young Quartermaster, the man he was currently dismantling under the hot spray of the shower, and turned his head to nibble on the shell of his ear. “What do you want?”

“Just....don’t fucking stop, whatever - oh, GOD - you do, don’t stop.” Q’s hips were stuttering against him now, riding against his own erection, and God, that felt good.

“Feels good?” He kept his voice silky and soft.

“You have...no idea - JAMES!” The sudden shout was the only warning Bond got that Q was right there on the edge, so he slowed down just a bit, enough to back him down again. The wretched-sounding whine that ripped out of the younger man’s throat was completely worth it. “F-f-fucking hell, James. James. Jesus.” Q panted out his name over and over as Bond picked up the pace again, moving him out of the water a bit so that he could spit on his hand as a lubricant. That little change in friction had Q growling in desire and kissing Bond hard and fast, all teeth and tongue and lust. Of course, because of the last few weeks of absolute hell, it was over much too quick, and Bond didn’t even get a warning this time as Q tipped over the edge, only a warbling moan and his body jerking hard in the agent’s grip as he came against Bond’s thigh and cock, whimpering little apologies and consonants that could have been a name. Bond stroked him gently through it, running his hand through Q’s sopping wet hair as he shuddered out the last of his orgasm. Suddenly, Q went limp against him, and Bond tightened his grip, only to have the young man bat at his hands.

“No, James, let me, damn it...”

Bond let go and blinked through the water gathered on his lashes as the hacker dropped to his knees on the tile floor of the shower and licked up the underside of his cock. The sight of Q, on his knees before him, with one hand circling his prick and the other kneading his arse, was mesmerizing.  

“The hot water is going to run out soon. I’m going to make this quick, since I still have to wash. Do you mind?”

Bond realised that was a question, and it was directed at him. “Oh, yeah, it’s fine.”

And good fucking Lord, Q wasn’t kidding. That mouth latched on and pulled Bond along for a five minute whirlwind blowjob. He could barely pick out the different sensations, all he could feel was the tight, hot, fucking vacuum and the tongue that never did stay in one spot, writhing along his length and igniting fireworks in his blood. His orgasm, when it came, slammed into him like a fucking aeroplane crash, and he damn near hit the tile himself. God, it was a long time since he’d had something that raw and quick, and he could remember why it was good. It left him dizzy and wanting a bit more...fuck, no, it left him wanting so much more. He stared down at Q. “You alright?”

Q tilted his head up and smiled, wiping his chin - and that was hot as hell. “Yes. Better. Now I want to go back to sleep though.”

Bond smiled. “Breakfast first, then - oh, shit. We have to go -”

“I know. Back to work.” He winced. “After that, then.”

“Yeah.”

********   
  
  


Bond tapped his fingers on the steering wheel at red light and scanned the street ahead. Beside him, in the passenger seat, Q tapped away at his phone while talking one of his lesser techs through an install of a system for something Bond didn’t actually fully understand, so he kept his nose out of it, instead looking for a place to have lunch. After they’d gotten clean in the shower and shared the plate of eggs and bacon, Bond had taken Q to bed and broken him down to his component parts, then they’d napped for an hour. They were woken up by their phones buzzing off the nightstand, and they rushed to dress, not giving much thought to eating. But as Bond waited in traffic - horrid, again, damn it all - he got to thinking.

Q took him clubbing one night. He should at least return the favour.

“How does Chinese sound for lunch?”

“Travis, for the last bloody time, it isn’t in the .zip file - sorry, James?”

“Chinese food.”

“Yes. That file.” Q turned to him. “And yes to Chinese.”

The light turned green, and Bond whipped out of the line of traffic to the next road.

The little place they ended up at barely had three chairs, smelled of soy sauce and chicken parts, and had chicken feet on the menu. Q was in heaven. Bond watched him scarf down a bowl of egg drop soup and mapo dofu, then start on an order of those feet, and smiled. This almost felt like a date. As Q looked up and pushed the feet towards Bond’s plate of spicy crispy beef, the agent realised it was a date. It was a date for two men who didn’t _do_ dates and had lives that didn’t lend to dating. Not to mention that apparently Q can pull whomever the fuck he wanted for quick dirty fucks and one night stands only, and Bond couldn’t do any better than broken femme fatales. He sighed and smiled at the man sitting across from him, wondering if he was falling down the rabbit hole once again.

 


End file.
